


Leave Him There

by wildenessat221b



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Eating Disorder, M/M, Viktor is still a skater, Yuri is a teacher, a little bit, holiday romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildenessat221b/pseuds/wildenessat221b
Summary: Yuri wakes up on a well earned holiday in the bed of a stranger.And my God, is he a beautiful stranger.





	

Yuri woke up, and it was a warm summer's day and he was in bed with a stranger. 

He groaned.

He was in a white and shiny hotel room, much like his own, with a gaping window overlooking the swimming pool. Swirling artwork coloured the walls, and there was a door to an en-suite bathroom to the left. It was tidy, with a large, black suitcase pushed into the corner with the lid flipped up to reveal rows of neatly folded clothes. On the night stand sat an empty bottle of wine that Yuri couldn't be sure but strongly suspected was once full, and that he was the reason it wasn't. A headache lurking in the front of his skull only went some distance to confirm this suspicion. 

He groaned again. 

The figure beside him was still, and turned away from him. He had long, elegant fingers curled into the bedsheets, which were fisted under his chin like a child's. The flat expanse of a toned, pale back was exposed, shoulder blades jutting out against a thin layer of skin. Silvery hair tickled the top of his neck and fell down behind his skull in short waves. 

To put it simply, he looked ethereal even from the back and unconscious. 

Yuri let out a third, rather put upon groan. 

***

The beautiful stranger woke, and blinked at Yuri twice. He had icy eyes, and pink lips set on porcelain skin. His face wore an unguarded expression of confusion, moulded by the sincerity of only being half awake. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and mumbled in a husky Russian accent with rolling consonants and a musical quality that he was going to use the bathroom.

He extracted himself from the bedsheets slowly, glancing back at Yuri from the corner of his eye every now and again. Yuri watched, as long legs stumbled into the bathroom then disappeared. 

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, shuffled back under the covers, and against his better judgement, went back to sleep.

***

He awoke for the second time, this time alone, and with a slightly clearer head. 

There was also a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him. 

The en-suite bathroom was silent, no running water or clattering bottles, so Yuri made the assumption that the stranger was either next door, or had done a runner. 

Both seemed equally plausible. 

He took a sip of the coffee - stronger than he'd make for himself but well received - and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

And... oh yeah. 

He was naked too.

He couldn't see his clothes anywhere, which was... worrying. He determinedly didn't think about the implications, and scooped a silky, expensive looking robe off the floor. 

He wrapped it around his shoulders, and poked his head out of the door.

The apartment was like his own; open plan with a black sofa tucked into one wall opposite a large television. There was a small kitchen, white and clean, and a glass dining table with two chairs in the middle of the room.

That's where the stranger was, back to Yuri, elbows rested on the table and head bent. He was dressed now, in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. He still managed to look ethereal. 

He looked up at the creak of the door when Yuri walked through, eyes wide and bright. 

'Hi.'

'Hello.'

Yuri shuffled his feet.

'Thank you for the coffee.'

The stranger smiled.

'I didn't know how you liked it. So I made it how I like it. I hope that's okay.'

'It's good.'

He stood up, chair scraping against the tiled floor, and gestured towards the kitchen. His movements were halting, and jittery in a way that would look nervous on anyone else.

'I could make breakfast. If you want breakfast. Do you want breakfast?' 

Yuri felt his face flush. He was being offered breakfast by a handsome stranger, presumably after draining his wine and wearing his robe. 

'It's okay thank you. You don't need to make me breakfast,' his eyes wandered around the apartment, 'I... oh.'

The t-shirt and jeans that he had a vague recollection of putting on the day before were crumpled on the floor in front of the sofa. 

The man gave him a questioning look. He pointed awkwardly towards them.

'Mine... I think.'

'Ah.'

The man blinked at them absently, then slung the t-shirt and jeans over his arm, and pinched a pair of underwear between his finger and thumb. 

'I have no problem with the robe,' he said lowly, a smirk pulling on the corner of his lips.

Yuri felt his stomach drop into his feet. He snatched his clothes from the stranger's arms. 

'I'll go and... yeah.'

He was back in the bedroom by the time he'd finished his sentence. 

He leaned against the bathroom door, as his shaking legs fumbled around his jeans. He struggled into his shirt, then sat down beside the toilet with his knees tucked into his chest. 

He was okay.

He just didn't remember the night before. 

He put his head between his knees, and breathed.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He was fine. 

***

The stranger was perched on the edge of the sofa when he came back, having splashed water on his face and regained some semblance of a normal heart beat. 

He was turned towards the door, watching and waiting for him to return. 

Yuri smiled a small, hesitant smile. 

'I think I'll... go now. Thank you for-'

'I don't mind if you don't want breakfast! Or even if you don't want to talk. But... you can stay if you want.' 

There was a vulnerability in his eyes, that Yuri found strange. He was a tall, strong looking man, flirty and encased in stardust, but his eyes were soft. 

They made Yuri stop.

'I think... I need to go. For a bit. But... I'll come back later if you want.'

'I do want. I want.'

'Okay then.'

***

'I'm a figure skater, when I'm not here.'

'Really? Wow. What's it like?'

'It's good.'

The conversation lapsed, and they both stared into their drinks. It was lunchtime, and they were at a poolside café, reserved under Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuri thought it was a wonderful name. 

Viktor poked his straw around in his water, nudging the ice cubes into each other absently. Then he worked his face into a dazzling smile.

'What about you?'

'Really? You're a figure skater and you want to talk about me?'

'I certainly don't want to talk about skating. Let's talk about you.'

Yuri frowned, then let his face soften.

'I'm a teacher. I teach Japanese in Detroit, to high school students.'

'Yeah? Do you like it.'

Yuri smiled.

'I do. I mean... it pays the bills and keeps food in the fridge, but I'm opening doors for people, which is better.'

Viktor's eyes took on a whimsical quality. 

'I love learning. I wish I'd done more of it.'

'It's never too late.'

Viktor hummed.

'I suppose. But it's harder now isn't it? When you've got to do stuff other than learning.'

'Stuff like what?'

'Stuff like performing. Pretending.'

He frowned for a moment, then as though waking up, beamed again. 

'Tell me about the school.'

***

Yuri slept in Viktor's bed again that night, - sober, and with actual sleep rather than... whatever happened the night before - and the next morning, he moved his still unpacked suitcase into his room. 

They spent the day talking about Yuri (a lot) and listening to the radio. 

They danced twice, both elegant (Yuri from his youth whiling away the hours in Minako's studio) and both warm. 

It didn't cross either's mind that the closeness they'd achieved in such a short space of time was odd, because surely that's what you do on holiday. Live fast, make memories and return to the slog afterwards. 

Viktor made dinner that night, something red and spicy, and put out a large portion for Yuri and a small for himself.

Yuri scraped his plate clean, Viktor didn't. 

He swallowed some pills in the late evening, and Yuri tried not to watch.

Then they danced again and it was okay. 

Yuri slept on Viktor's chest on the sofa that night.

Neither thought that it was odd because that's what you do on holiday. 

Neither thought that they were in love either.

***

They ventured into the city the next day, and it was all sandy roads and wooden panelling. Coloured drapes and smiling people.

There was music and magic drifting on the air, and they locked their hands together and pretended that the closeness was something they'd planned. 

They danced again, with the sun beating down on their backs, while a small crowd gathered. Spinning around each other, pressed chest to chest, they were timeless.

They sipped sweet cocktails in an open bar, then headed to the market. 

Viktor bought in bulk, everything shiny that caught his eye it seemed, while Yuri watched in smiling awe. 

Viktor insisted that they were technically living together now, for the week at least, so they should share everything. He was smiling so wide that Yuri couldn't protest, so they shared out pendants and beads, scarves and silks sitting cross legged on the apartment floor giggling like schoolchildren. 

They fell into bed and slept again, bare chested and pressed together. 

***

It rained on day five, so they camped out inside. Viktor busied himself in the kitchen, as he seemed to enjoy doing, chopping this and that to no avail and packing them into sandwich bags. 

Yuri couldn't help himself, and with nothing else to do, he took out his laptop and googled Viktor. 

The results were instant. A stunning, ivory giant, "Russia's Hero," "Nikiforov Takes Gold Again," "The Ice King Stuns Amidst Retirement Rumours."

He clicked on a video, thumbnail showing Viktor in a silky, skintight fuchsia costume, and watched in awe as he twirled and weaved on the ice. His every inch was wonderful, and his face illuminated by the lights. His eyes were bright.

But a little... vacant. 

The laptop slammed shut. Yuri jumped. 

'Sorry,' said a breathy voice, 'Please don't watch that.'

Yuri furrowed his brow.

'Why not? It's beautiful.'

Viktor fell to his knees at Yuri's side. His eyes were slightly wild, with moisture gathering at the corners.

'You wouldn't like him,' he said huskily, 'The me I am when I'm not here. Leave him there.'

Yuri stretched out a hand, and traced his fingertips along Viktor's sharp cheekbone.

'If that's what you want.'

***

They drank again that night, stiff vodka and flat coke. They gigged for hours, jumping on furniture, singing songs from their native languages that the other didn't understand, and kissing. 

Kissing and kissing and kissing. 

When they'd finished jumping on furniture, they lay down in bed side by side. When they'd finished singing, they just kissed. When they'd finished kissing, they were silent, staring up at the ceiling and buzzing. 

Viktor sighed heavily into the quiet. 

Yuri turned his head to glance at him, eyes hooded and careful. 

'I said I didn't want to talk about skating. But you do.'

Yuri swallowed.

'It's okay if you don't-'

'I'm drunk enough to humour you. Shut up, you might not get another chance.'

He breathed hard again.

'I like the skating. It's good, it's wonderful. It's like art... I can paint my soul onto the ice and leave it there. And I'm good, nobody can deny that. I'm very good, and I enjoy being good.'

He stopped, and Yuri shifted onto his side so that he was facing him. 

'It's the... other stuff I don't like. I love the people, the skating, making people happy. Just... not what it does to me.'

Yuri remembered the small portions being scraped into the bin, and the pills he took silently, and the manic panic with which he slammed the laptop down. 

And it hurt him, properly hurt him. 

That's when he realised that he may just be in love. 

Yuri's face was sad, and solemn, and it hurt Viktor, properly hurt him.

That's when he realised that he may just be in love. 

The clock said two forty-five, and the moon was shining over their sixth day. 

***

They lay in bed for most of the last day, rising only for Viktor to get two bowls of cereal.

Viktor cleared his bowl, wolfed it down with a choking quality, but silenced and went pale soon after. 

After around half an hour, he slouched into the bathroom and Yuri thought he heard the sound of a splattering against porcelain.

'I think you need help,' Yuri whispered, as Viktor slipped back under the covers. 

He nodded solemnly, with pursed lips. 

'I know. And I get it usually. But I'm on holiday,' he shrugged, 'And old habits die hard without a stubborn Soviet coach breathing down your neck.'

'It's good that people look out for you.'

'They do. I'm lucky. That's why it hurts.'

Yuri weaved a hand through Viktor's hair.

'What do you mean?' 

'I have the world. I have no excuse for not being okay.'

Yuri sighed. 

'Suffering isn't a competition, love.'

Viktor smiled sadly. 

'I live in competition. That's just how I work.'

***

They exchanged emails at the airport, because they were forgetful fools who hadn't done so before. 

'I thought you weren't meant to follow up holiday romances,' Yuri smiled, as Viktor buried his nose into his neck.

'Maybe that's the point. This is more,' he grinned into the soft skin. 

'Maybe.'

They kissed, proud and passionate, as onlookers bustled around them. 

Stillness in a crowd, stabilised by the other's lips. 

***

There was radio silence for about a week, and Yuri buried himself in essays and marking. 

It was in class when the silence was ended, a room full of sleepy teenagers scribbling into notebooks. 

Yuri's laptop chimed. 

//"I'm competing at skate America. If you want to see not holiday me. I suppose it's up to you to decide whether you like him or not."//

Yuri smiled.

//"I'll learn to like him. I'll learn to love him."//

**Author's Note:**

> Can't thank you enough for reading! Comments much appreciated.


End file.
